Willing Complication 04: First Frost
by moor
Summary: Shuurei x Seiran. One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. Sequel to "Raking Leaves"


**TITLE: **First Frost  
**AUTHOR:** **beyondthemoor** on LJ  
**RATING: **Very light T  
**GENRE: **Gen/Romance  
**WARNINGS: **A bit OOC, sorry! And uninspired. But I'm forcing myself to write about different things, so this is just practice. Still needs some work....  
**AU/CANON:** Canon-ish, no set spot in timeline  
**PAIRINGS: **Shuurei x Seiran  
**WORD COUNT: ** 2400 words (approx)  
**SUMMARY: **One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. And, when available, their bedfellows. (Follow-up to "Raking Leaves")  
**NOTES: **Concrit is appreciated!

AN: I originally wrote this for the 'First Frost' prompt on the saiun_challenge LJ comm in 2009, but didn't get around to it. So here it is!

* * *

"First Frost"

The way she tied her hair back had barely changed from when she was a child, he notices as they put away the dishes from their breakfast meal. Her clothes are similar, too, and reminiscent of those her mother used to wear. But still… not exactly the same.

Underneath those flowing garments, the part that's inside her, he knows she's different, changed – and not just because she now wears his discarded clothes regularly to guard against the chill. He tells himself he isn't pleased to see her wearing his things.

Over the past few days, Seiran has found himself looking at his Ojou-sama more often, more intently than before. Quick glances stolen while they prepared meals together; a more thoughtful smile while he answers her questions before she turns back to her shopping, not realizing he is still watching her; their goodnights and good mornings lingering where before they were brief and simple.

Whatever it was about her, it captivated him, and he couldn't ignore the fascination for more than a few seconds before something about her would resurface in his mind, reeling him in again like a hungry fish on a lure.

And he wonders if it has anything to do with the last battle he was in, the one that took place just as he and the rest of the soldiers were returning to the capitol city's border, that's got him looking at her so. It wasn't that it was a difficult or brutal encounter, it didn't stand out in his mind for the fierceness of its combatants or the endurance it took to withstand a small barrage of arrows, but it had served as a reminder that he was mortal; that he could be felled just like any other; and that… his mother's line would end with him.

So many of his fellow soldiers had girlfriends, wives, children. They would live on beyond their time if something—heaven forbid—were to happen to them while on tour of duty.

But not him.

And while this had never concerned or bothered him before, in truth, he'd hardly thought of it, for some reason, now… now it did.

Watching Shuurei putter around (their) family kitchen, assisting her with maintaining (their) family home, shopping with her, doing all the things husbands normally did with their wives, and yet… he was not her husband, she was not his wife.

And trying to change that would mean acting selfishly.

He was never selfish.

Her happiness was all he worked for.

His own… his own happiness was found in hers, and in his brother's happiness and success.

For so long, he'd been so deliberate in ensuring he would have no children, no outstanding contribution to any society beyond his devotion to the Kou family; making sure that, if his background as Prince Seien were discovered, there would be nothing that could be used as leverage to place him back on the throne over his youngest brother; doing everything he could to protect and bolster his youngest sibling so he'd have every opportunity to succeed without feeling threatened or rushed. To give Ryuuki the time he needed to become his own person, become the Emperor he wanted to be, the man he wanted to be, without constantly looking over his shoulder or second-guessing himself wondering if he was about to be challenged for his position.

As Seiran had arrived within the gates upon his return to the city, his colleagues had been swarmed by family, laughing and cheering children, loving embraces from wives and sisters.

And he'd walked through it all on his way, unconcerned no one had come to welcome him.

Now, though, as he watched Shuurei finish rinsing the serving plate and hand it to him to dry and put away, he wonders if he could ask her to wait for him next time. Welcome him at the gates.

Embrace him with her warm, loving arms.

Deep in his thoughts, Seiran missed his Ojou-sama's curious looks that morning.

Little did he know, Shuurei had noticed his stares, had wanted to go welcome him home from the gates, and her hands occasionally trembled when she thought of clasping them around his trim waist and tucking her head into his shoulder.

When they parted to go their separate ways that day, she to bury herself in Kouchou-neesan's bookkeeping, he to a tavern nearby to assist with some repairs to the roof, each sighed for different and yet the same reasons.  


* * *

The memories kept at him as he worked that day on the wind-blown roof, tearing off old cracked tiles and replacing them levelly with smooth new ones.

"_Seiran, what are you reading?" _she'd asked him when she was still a very young child. She'd climbed up onto the warm kang in his room where he read by candle light, tucked herself into his lap with his arms around her, and proceeded to interrogate him on his story as if its plot were of the utmost importance to her, simply because he was the one reading it.

Several years later on another bitter wintry night, she'd fallen asleep against his side as she'd stitched her embroidery, again on the soporific comfort of the kang and under the blanket he'd wrapped around her shoulders.

A few years later still, she'd studied late into the night in his company on the raised sleeping platform, preparing for her next tutoring session while he brought in tea to share, never interrupting her with words, only showing support by refreshing her cup when she'd absently hold her shining porcelain teacup out. The tea had remained warm on the tiled surface of the kang, nestled within a make-shift cozy of tea towels on his blankets.

She'd never hesitated in his company because she'd always trusted him.

How could he risk that trust over something so selfish as asking for more than the companionship they currently shared? The companionship they both depended on.

That night, as it had the last several weeks, the darkness of night fell sooner and sooner than the previous day, and he packed up his tools and made his way to Kouchou's establishment to collect his Ojou-sama before returning home together.

* * *

By the time the pair arrived home, the temperature had dropped severely; and they found, upon entering their home, that Shouka-dono had not returned yet either.

"He was supposed to have come back this afternoon!" wailed Shuurei as she rushed forward to light the stove and heat the kitchen, while Seiran set about the lanterns. The chill in the air promised frost that night, and the house should not have sat cold through the full day; any water would freeze and cause cracking, and it would take hours to warm the rooms by fire…

"If Ojou-sama can manage the kitchen and meal, she can leave the outdoor chores to me," Seiran suggested. He hadn't taken off his outer clothes yet, and still needed to return his tools and such to their maintenance building. The water-well was that way, he'd make sure the bucket was pulled up out of the water in case it did freeze over that night. The few animals they kept would need to be brought into the small shed, and the baskets of vegetables would need to be collected from the storehouse and brought to the main kitchen to keep them from freezing… The mental list was already formulating as he accepted his Ojou-sama's nod and struck out for the rear courtyard.

* * *

Exhausted, Shuurei bent down over the stove in her room to light the fire that would warm the kang and her blankets.

Or she tried to – but found it was stuck fast.

"Come on," she grunted, planting her feet and yanking on the handle. It wouldn't budge. She put her hand to the side and nearly yelped when it came back frigidly cold. It was probably frozen shut from the condensation moisture caught inside due to the rain they'd had a day earlier.

Glaring at it balefully a moment longer, she released the stove handle and huffed up onto the kang to bury herself under her blankets.

She'd be fine for one night. It wasn't as if she'd freeze to death in her own room…

* * *

Seiran startled awake, his dominant arm already reaching for his sword as his eyes searched the dark room. By the time his hand closed around its scabbard, however, he had picked up on the pale face peeking through the doorway into his room.

"Seiran?" she called cautiously. She'd learned long ago not to sneak up on Seiran at night the way she used to as a child. Now she held her distance out of respect. He had never given her any indication she was unwelcome, never made any mention of bringing home… company…, never hinted he wanted privacy. But it was something she felt he was due, as any man was.

"Ojou-sama? What's wrong?"

She shuffled a bit, tucking her hands into her sleeves and rubbing her cold, red nose. "Do you have any more spare clothes or blankets?"

"I'll check; come warm up on the kang while I look," he said, pulling the covers back.

"Ah thank you so much!"

He barely heard her muffled appreciation as she zipped across the icy floor and burrowed down into his toasty blankets beside him. He had to wait a moment to smoothe his easy, amused grin before he lit the lamp. Some things hadn't changed much at all…

It didn't take him long to gather up a few spare blankets and thick trousers, including a woolen sleeping shift she could borrow for the night.

However, he hadn't anticipated her being so difficult to wake.

"Mmmm…" she mumbled, followed by drowsy ramblings when he touched her shoulder.

"Ojou-sama," he prodded her again, shaking her more roughly. "It's time to go back. Ojou-sama…"

"Kang's broken," she yawned, arching her back as she shifted under his blankets finally, reaching out for him to stay his hand. "Stayin' here… warm…" With that she settled again with a soft breath, clutching his sleeve to her cheek.

With a sigh, Seiran rocked back on his heels and looked at her, her dark hair tangled around her face, dimly limned from the candle lamplight. She took long, steady breaths, obviously more asleep than awake, and before he knew it he'd reached out a calloused, long-fingered hand to smoothe the hair away from her warm cheeks, smiling at her.

"I'll go sleep in your room, you rest here," he said finally, tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. She gave no indication she'd heard him, and slumbered on.

With a low bow over her and gentle tug he pulled his nightshirt from her grasp, steadying himself with a hand flat on the twisted sheet by her head, his face inches from hers, feeling her breath leave her and blow softly over him.

His eyes were drawn to her partially open mouth and the quiet breath that came and went.

Soundlessly he watched her, the dim light filtering past him to outline her profile, the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips.

The beautiful young woman in his bed still didn't stir when he slid away, to her room to sleep that night, after adoring her with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

* * *

"Seiran… Seiran… It's morning…"

It was Shuurei's turn to try and jostle her lethargic bed-warmer awake in the early light, and he rose slowly, bleary-eyed and confused when he couldn't remember immediately how he'd ended up in her bed instead of his own.

For her part, Shuurei couldn't help the emotion that tugged at the corners of her lips, pulled them to a smile at how adorable her family retainer looked with tousled hair and piles of quilts, both his and hers, and rumpled night shirt as he woke. In fact, she was tempted to crawl under the covers with him and tell him to go back to bed after a cuddle, he looked like he'd been having such a good sleep. But that wasn't something she could ask of him, or even bully him into no matter how devoted he was to her family – in fact, it was exactly why he probably wouldn't comply. Sometimes she missed how close she'd been able to get to him when she was a young girl.

"Did Ojou-sama sleep well?" he mumbled as he rubbed at one of his eyes, squinting at her a bit from the other and then lost a battle with a yawn.

To Shuurei, it was one of the cutest, most child-like things she'd ever seen Seiran do in her presence. And she had to snap her jaw shut tightly to keep from babbling out an embarrassingly girlish, "Aww!" that would no doubt send him straight into a sour mood. Seiran had always been touchy about seeming 'cute', or even worse, 'pretty'.

So she simply nodded and hummed an affirmative noise in her throat, and held out a hand to help him up (which he ignored and instead stood on his own beside her).

"It wasn't too cold for you in here?"

Smiling down at her, Seiran, still very relaxed, shook his head. "Ojou-sama's room was more than comfortable," he said, and just to throw her off guard as he walked away, he patted her still bed-mussed hair in a reassuring fashion, much to her displeasure.

"Seiran!"

As his Ojou-sama stood in the middle of her room grumbling at him and fixing her hair, Seiran chuckled and pulled his hair back from his face with a large hand. "I'll go start the stove for breakfast and draw some water," he called. "If Ojou-sama needs my extra blankets, I'll leave them here until we improve your sleeping arrangements."

"What arrangements would those be?" asked a smiling Shouka as Seiran stepped into the hallway. He hadn't made a sound, and Seiran's eyes flew open in surprise at seeing Shuurei's overprotective father, absent so long at the clan's stronghold, present and alert and very, very focused on Seiran as he stepped from his Ojou-sama's bedroom first thing in the morning making pleasantries about her night accommodations.

Except contrary to his usual bland expression, the ex-assassin's eyes were open and watching Seiran very carefully for any hint of a possible transgression against his daughter.

The first frost of the season, which Seiran had assumed he'd escaped, bled through all too clearly in his master's eyes and sent shivers down the young man's spine.

* * *

Posted 19 January, 2010. END.


End file.
